I spent two and a half days in this city that is starting to feel almost like a second home, because I have had the incredibly good fortune to have both lived here and visited multiple times.
The ding of the subway doors, the two-tone police siren, the smells of baked goods wafting down a side street--they welcome me and let me know I'm in a familiar place.
And every time I see and do new things. This trip, I had lunch with my group at a place I'd never been to before, and learned that the flame statue nearby marked the spot where Princess Diana's car crashed around this time in 1997.
I visited Montmartre and Sacre Coeur for the first time in many years, and gazed down on a city that was both brand new in its technological transformations and still very steeped in centuries of history.
Walking around, I discovered hidden treasures.
I caught the very last metro Saturday night from Place de la Concorde, desperately hoping to make it all the way back to our hostel in Republique.
And I stood amidst crowds to catch a glimpse of the riders as they swooped into Paris in the final stage of the Tour de France. Camera poised high above my head, sun beating down on me with a vengeance after two-and-a-half weeks of rain, I was determined to be there to scream and cheer as the first riders and the peleton went by.
Summer in Paris is an unusual time--many Parisians are out of town, hoping to escape the excessive heat. Except this summer was actually quite cool, by typical weather standards. And so we saw a lot of tourists--heaps and hordes and mobs of them, lined up everywhere we went. Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle, Arc de Triomphe, Sacre Coeur ... if it was a monument in a guide book they were there, and the pushing and shoving eventually became too much Saturday night.
High up on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, in front of the only operational elevator to head back to the ground, the crowds were out of control. There was no decency, no regard for others, no trust that we would all eventually make it down if we were patient. And after missing three elevators in a row because of people cutting the line and creating unsafe conditions way up in the air, we decided to take the stairs, believing that it was better to push our tired legs a little further and be in control of our ability to get down than to wait parmi la foule.
There are so many wonderful experiences to focus on from this weekend, so I will let the tourists be tourists. Heading off the beaten path has its benefits! Thank you, Paris, for a fantastic weekend!
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